Radioactive
by Savy160
Summary: And yet, they say that the dead cannot rise… Tell that to Jason Todd. WARNING: This story contains abuse, suggestive themes, self-harm, gore, violence, and language mainly from Jason. This story is the prequel to Breaking Point and Blood of the Skull.
1. Chapter 1: Waking Up

**Radioactive **

**And yet, they say that the dead cannot rise… Tell that to Jason Todd. **

**WARNING: This story contains abuse, suggestive themes, self-harm, gore, violence, and language (mainly from Jason). I do not own Batman or anything related (if I did Damian would not have died). **

**This story is the prequel to Breaking Point and Blood of the Skull. So if you like this story, check out the others.**

**I don't own the Batfam or Radioactive by Imagining Dragons… or practically anything. I'm a poor, broke college student, who should probably be studying.**

**Chapter 1: Waking Up**

Maggots and insects consume his rotting flesh. The smell of the corpse is revolting. The body has already started to decompose. Darkness surrounds the corpse. For three years this body has been decomposing. For three years this body has been lying in the satin lined coffin. The body has not received the justice it deserved for three years.

_**Whoa, oh, oh  
>Whoa, oh, oh<br>Whoa, oh, oh  
>Whoa<strong>_

Rain pelts the body's grave from above. The wind screams in anger as the thunder rolls. Lightning fills the graveyard with electric blue light. A stone guardian angel weeps above the headstone. A single tear rolls off of the statue's face as a single bolt of lightning strikes the marble slab that hides the body beneath it. The slab cracks open as the earth begins to rumble and shake.

_**I'm waking up to ash and dust  
>I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust<br>I'm breathing in the chemicals**_

"Aaaah! Bruuuce! H-help! B-batman!"

_**I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus  
>This is it, the apocalypse<br>Whoa**_

The soon to be walking dead's screams are swallowed by the storm. His fists pound against the lid of his prison as he panics. He's hyperventilating. He doesn't know what's going on. He hasn't realized that he was dead. It doesn't take him long to realize that he's in a coffin. He does the only thing he can think of. He calls for his father to save him as he pounds on the coffin and claws at the lid of his prison.

_**I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
>Enough to make my systems blow<br>Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
>Welcome to the new age, to the new age<br>Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
>Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive<strong>_

He calms himself down a little as he tries to ignore the fact that maggots are consuming his flesh, that he's buried alive, that Batman isn't coming. He's alone. Taking a deep breath, he slips the buckle off of his belt as he trembles with fear. He'll be alright. He's trained for any situation.

_**I raise my flags, don my clothes  
>It's a revolution, I suppose<br>We'll paint it red to fit right in  
>Whoa<strong>_

The metal tip of the belt's buckle is repeatedly driven into the lid of the wooden coffin. Finger nails are ripped from damaged skin as he claws his way out. Bloodied and bony fingers work diligently as he tries to preserve what little oxygen is left in the tomb.

_**I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus  
>This is it, the apocalypse<br>Whoa**_

The wood begins to crack. He takes a final breath and kicks the already cracked lid of the coffin. The damp soil begins to rain down on him. Yet, he keeps trying. He's not going to give up. Tiny splinters imbed themselves into his skin. But, he doesn't care. He only wants to escape the darkness, this Hell he's been buried in.

_**I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
>Enough to make my systems blow<br>Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
>Welcome to the new age, to the new age<br>Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
>Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive<strong>_

Finally, his right hand breaks through the top layer of the soil as he begins to haul himself out. He's crawling on all fours until his body can't take the strain anymore. Tears pour from his half sunken and hollow eyes. He's dragging himself by his hands, while screaming for his father to help him. A trail of blood, maggots, and torn flesh extend from the grave to the boy. His body has finally had enough. The walking dead is no longer crawling. He passes out from extreme exhaustion, with his father's name on his lips.

_**All systems go, the sun hasn't died  
>Deep in my bones, straight from inside<strong>_

The stone angel weeps as the body is carried away in order to serve a dark purpose. Hands work assiduously to repair the damaged coffin and marble grave. No one will even notice that the body is missing for another year.

_**I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
>Enough to make my systems blow<br>Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
>Welcome to the new age, to the new age<br>Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
>Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive <strong>_

And yet, they say that the dead cannot rise… Tell that to Jason Peter Todd.


	2. Chapter 2: Ash and Dust

**Chapter 2: Ash and Dust**

Small hands clear the debris away from the grave. Last night's storm was horrific and caused a lot of damage. The grave's only regular visitor pauses when a small crack is shown on the smooth marble. It seems that the hands that worked so hard to prepare the damaged grave the night before overlooked a small scuff. A finger traces the jagged scar. The finger is hastily pulled away as a tiny shard of marble imbeds itself into the finger. A single drop of crimson falls between the small crack and splatters against the dirt lying below.

The thirteen year old, raven haired, blue eyed, boy offers a small curse before wiping the blood on his jeans and placing flowers on the freshly cleaned grave. He sighs as he sits cross-legged on the grass and stares at the headstone. He absentmindedly pulls at the grass and rereads the name on the headstone for the thousandth time.

"Um… Hey Jason. It's me again… Dick said he's coming back to Gotham today… He says he just wanted to check up on things, but I know it's not true. He's coming to see you because tomorrow marks the anniversary of your… your death. It's the only time that he and Bruce come to see you. They'll probably fight though. They always do… But, you knew that… On a happier note; I made the Teen Titans," the boy states as a small smile crosses his lips.

"Dick says I'll be leading them one day… He says it runs in the family. You never led them, but I bet you could have…I know you could have. I watched you… Well, I mean I watched you in a non-creepy way. You were amazing! Heck, you were my hero… And now you're gone… Actually, it's been three years... You'll never know how much we all miss you. Bruce stares at the case with your costume in it all the time… Mine's different than yours… I just didn't want to disrespect your memory and I don't think Bruce could've handled it... None of us could. I wish you were here, Jason. I wish-" the boy added before abruptly breaking off.

A shiny coin has caught his eye. Fingers grasp the token as sunlight reflects off of the coin. The boy's brows wrinkle in confusion as he studies the foreign coin. It's not a coin from the United States… It's Arabic.

"Timmy, what are you doing here?"

The thirteen year old shoves the coin in his pocket before hastily turning to face the twenty-two year old. The elder of the pair is studying the younger. He takes note of the boy's cheeks, red from embarrassment.

"I just thought I'd see if the grave withstood the storm… When did you get back?"

"An hour ago… You just gonna stand there or are you gonna give me a hug?" the older man asks as he opens his arms.

The younger boy walks into his surrogate brother's embrace and allows himself to be coddled for approximately five seconds before pulling away.

"How long are you staying?"

"Just today, Timmy. Bruce has made it clear that this is his territory and that I belong somewhere else," The elder sharply responded.

"But, what about-" the boy begins before breaking off.

"Look, Tim. Bruce has his city. I have mine. We all grow up eventually."

"Oh."

The boy finds himself held against the elder. He sighs and secretly wonders if Jason was forced to endure their big brother's waves of affection. He lightly pushes against the other's chest. The elder releases his death grip and gives the boy a small smile.

"It's okay to come out here, Tim. I know you come out here a lot. I'm sure Jason's thankful to have such a caring little brother."

"How did you know I come out here a lot?"

"You know Bruce. He's a freak with security cameras… He was in the cave watching you."

"What! He watches me?"

"Don't take it personal. He just needs to know you're safe. We wouldn't know what to do if we lost you… But, it's weird though."

"What?"

"The camera died last night. I guess the storm killed it. But, it's the first time it's ever happened. Bruce replaced it this morning."

"Yeah. That is weird," the boy responded as his brother's arm was draped around his shoulders.

The two of them stand there for a while in silence before the boy finally asks, "Do you think he can see us?"

"Who? Jason?" The elder asks as the younger nods.

"Yeah. I'd like to think he's watching out for us."

If only the two brothers were aware of the fact that their brother was not watching out for them from above. If only they were six thousand miles closer to The League of Shadows. If they could only hear their brother's screams of waking up for the second time.

* * *

><p><strong>For those of you that have read my work, I'm not going to be writing this story in POV's. It will be told in 3<strong>**rd**** person. Please let me know which you prefer for future preference. **

**And thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! **


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